Familiar faces only proved to become more familiar since the takeover of Sootopolis. Though she had to admit that there was something far more relaxed about the atmosphere of the city since, it still left a cold, heavy weight in the pit of her stomach.

There were plenty of faces she expected to see in Sootopolis. His, however, was not one of them.

She notices Boruta immediately as he enters the bar. Heads turn, naturally, and eyes linger as the man crosses the bar floor to beckon for a beer. He is out of place, out of character. Emma regards him thoughtfully, but with no real intent to interact.

What is he doing here?

Emma rises from her seat slowly before approaching. The bartender slides another, identical drink next to Bo, unprompted. But it isn't for him, it's for Emma as she slides into the seat next to him.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're following me."

boruta maher

She acts as a buffer, a blanket to disguise him amongst the rest. Realistically, there is a pretty good chance no one is really paying much attention. Most of the people in the bar this late at night are too drunk or too high to care. But those whose eyes do linger stray away, not keen on catching the ire of one of Rocket's beasts.

Emma observes him indirectly, more focused on the beer in front of her than the fake smile he presses to his lips. He makes it look easy, makes it look real, but she knows better. He'd almost certainly learned that trick from Rocket.

Unlike him, however, she doesn't smile. Her face is neutral, unreadable, purposely cold.

"You'd have to be the best to do that - and unfortunately, you're looking at her."

He tilts his drink toward her and she reciprocates, clinking the lip of her own against his glass. She follows his lead, taking a sip, and sets it back down against the countertop.

"Conquering cities through fear and manipulation. Just a day in the life, you know."

There is a thinly veiled note of bitterness in her tone.

boruta maher

They were far more alike than she gave him credit for- than she ever would, probably. Where she doesn't dare to let anything in, more dedicated to icing people out, icing the world out with her cold front, he offers warmth even if it is an artificial sun.

She watches him, surprisingly thoughtful, as their glasses clink together. The contents slosh back and forth before being raised to their lips in unison. It's bitter taste sits heavily in her belly, giving her something else to focus on.

"You don't have to."

But that wasn't true, or at least, it wasn't advice she took herself.

"What are you doing back here?"

boruta maher

"Hm."

She doesn't argue because it isn't her place to. He's right, and she knows that, vague or no.

And, up until he asks her a question, Emma is staring down the bottom of her glass and swirling its contents, losing her thoughts in it's idle movement and probably putting too much thought into their simple conversation and whether either of them had to do anything.

But the mention of his dad as well as the glass raised to his lips brings her out of it. She frowns openly, staring at him for a long moment.

"Does he want something from you?"

boruta maher